Into the Dream
by Veni0Vidi0Vici
Summary: No matter how dark times are for ThunderClan, things can always get darker. But what do kits know of darkness?


ONCE UPON A TIME in a dry, leaf-bare forest, a kit had sneaked out of the nursery for an adventure in the dark. The predatory hoots of owls overhead and rumbles of the Twolegs' monsters did not dissuade him. He slunk in the shadows, his golden brown pelt dyed black by the night, holding his body low to the ground. Each of his careful pawsteps made only the faintest thud on the forest floor.

He had crept away from the camp and made his way along its perimeter to his destination: the medicine cat's den. Dared by a littermate, he planned to sneak in and steal a single poppy seed as a trophy.

He steered his body as close to the medicine cat's den as he could, his night-blackened pelt another face of the dark rock. As he drew near to the entrance, he heard the rustle of the wind blowing dry leaves across the forest floor and felt the breeze stir his fur.

The sound of the leaves scraping against the ground disguised the sound of the paws that were drawing closer until it was almost too late. He froze when he heard a _pat_ on the ground and scrambled backward when he heard another. He hid himself behind the hollowed rock, as deep in the shadows as he could, flattening his body against the ground.

"Bluestar?" came the high-pitched mew of the medicine cat.

"How is Mousefur?" another voice meowed.

The kit had never heard this voice. He swallowed, wondering if that could truly be the leader and wondering what his punishment would be if he was caught out of the nursery at night by Bluestar herself.

"Her wounds are deep," the first cat whispered. "I do not know if she will make it."

"Like Redtail and Lionheart."

Their pawsteps sounded above the wind this time as the pair began to walk together, making their way along the medicine cat's den and closer to the hiding kit.

"I wonder why we defend ThunderClan's dying land with our lives, Spottedleaf. Rain has not fallen in seasons. The prey has all but left. You would think that we would be leaving with the prey, but instead we stay."

The two cats had rounded the corner. The kit narrowed his eyes so that the gleam would not betray him, but he could see a pair of cats in the moonlight. His heart thumped faster in his chest because he knew if either turned their head, they would see him too.

After a long pause, Spottedleaf spoke. "It is as StarClan wills."

"My ears can tell you have said that a hundred times."

Spottedleaf let out a low snort.

The blue-gray cat the kit assumed was Bluestar turned her eyes to the sky, watching the stars that they had been speaking of.

"Are you looking for answers there?" the medicine cat asked.

The kit looked to the sky as well, risking the movement in case answers were really shown there.

"I wish the ancient warriors would share their wisdom," the leader meowed.

He searched the sky for any answers or wisdom, but he saw only blackness, the silvery sliver of the moon and glittering stars. Disappointment settled in his belly, for he wished to learn the secrets of medicine cats and leaders.

He turned his face downward to watch them as they watched the sky. At first, he did not see what caused the two cats to gasp in unison.

He wrenched his face up once more and was rewarded, not with wisdom or answers, but with the sight of a star falling from the sky itself. It cut the night as it plummeted, leaving behind a thin flaming orange scratch. It plunged through the air for just heartbeats before it landed somewhere beyond the most distant trees of the forest.

"Was that StarClan speaking to us?" Bluestar whispered.

Spottedleaf did not answer her question, but instead let out a wail that rang clear in the nearly silent forest. "I wish I could follow it."

"Why?" the leader meowed, no longer whispering.

"It's fire, Bluestar. Fire is the only way out."

* * *

To the kits of ThunderClan, the thick forest that surrounded the camp usually felt like the flanks of a mother encircling her little ones as they slept. Leaf-bare had stolen the leaves from the trees, turning their branches into skeletons and the forest itself barren and empty. Snow, like rain, had not fallen yet this season and the earth and forest were dry and thirsty.

A few fox-lengths away from the bracken-walled den that served as a nursery, four kits sat in a tight circle, heads pressed together and speaking in high-pitched whispers. A white she-cat laid in the entrance of the den, keeping her blue eyes fixed on the kits outside and her perked ears on the gossip inside.

The queen did not hear the runt of the litter, a tiny dark gray she-kit, quietly squeak "But you didn't get the poppy seed."

The largest kit, a golden brown tom, mewled a retort: "You missed the entire point of that story, didn't you?"

"The point was that you didn't get the poppy seed," the she-kit squealed, stomping one of her ashen paws against the cracked earth.

"So you're saying that they get these secrets from ancient warriors from the _sky_?" another tom asked. Unlike his solid colored brother, his golden brown coat was lined with tabby stripes.

"Yes, that's what I heard."

"How can you prove it?" the gray kit mewed. "Remember, you didn't bring the poppy seed back. We can't even be sure that you went out last night."

The large tom hissed in a low tone: "I'm not lying."

"Well, you're not telling the truth either."

"I think he is," the tabby meowed.

"You're both liars!" yowled the she-kit before lunging at the largest tom.

Even though she was small in size, her front paws hit the tom's shoulders and sent his large body tumbling to the ground. She pounced, not letting him rise to his paws and instead weighing him down and biting his ear.

Her moment of advantage ended as the tabby leapt on her from behind. He wrapped his long front legs around her flanks and nipped her side. The larger tom twisted under her, rolling on his back and kicking her belly from below.

The only kit who had not spoken or joined in the fight was a white she-kit with ginger patches marking her fluffy fur. She itched to jump on top of her brawling littermates and take them all by surprise, but she knew that this was the best time for her to report her brother's nighttime adventure to their mother.

When she was sure her littermates were occupied with their fight, she turned and sprinted to the nursery.

As she approached, the white she-cat in the entrance called out to her: "Brightkit, I know they are fighting. It is for play. Go join them."

Brightkit cringed at her mother's raised voice. She glanced back toward the fighting kits, but they battled on. It seemed they hadn't noticed.

She continued toward the she-cat, mewling in a low voice as she went: "Frostfur, Frostfur, Thornkit sneaked out of the nursery last night because Cinderkit dared him to go to Spottedleaf's den and get a poppy seed, but he didn't because Bluestar and Spottedleaf were talking and he spied on them and heard Spottedleaf say 'Fire is the only way out' and that's the answer from the stars."

The kit had sat down at her mother's feet as she finished her lengthy story.

"W-What?" Frostfur asked, looking down at her daughter. "Slow down."

"Thornkit. He sneaked out of the nursery last night and spied on Bluestar and Spottedleaf. He heard them get answers from the stars, Frostfur."

"Really, Brightkit?" she asked, letting out a sigh after she spoke.

"Yes. Go ask Bluestar if she got answers last night or something," Brightkit squeaked, offended because her own mother would not take her word.

"I truly doubt Thornkit managed to sneak out of the nursery and spy on Bluestar herself. Who told you this, anyway?"

"_He_ told all of us. He wanted us to keep it secret, but I thought you needed to know. Besides, why would he want us not to tell anyone if he was lying?"

* * *

In the warmer seasons, the elders' den, a hollow dug beneath the branches of a fallen tree, was hidden by the tall grass and ferns that grew between the tangled twigs. The greenery had died, bitten by frost, and left the elders' den exposed and unprotected.

The elders had long ago grown used to pale leaf-bare sunlight streaming through the branches and spent their afternoon naps with their noses pushed into the dirt and their paws covering their eyes.

Only a single elder and three kits had not pressed their faces against the earth. Instead, the elder, a pale gray she-cat, had asked the kits "What kind of story do you want to hear?" in a voice so loud that it woke the other elders.

"A romance!" squeaked Brightkit.

"A 'what'?" roared the elder.

"She said 'an adventure'!" mewled a gray she-kit, her voice louder than her sister's had been.

"Huh?" the elder yowled.

The last kit, a golden brown tabby tom, took a deep breath before yowling "Tell us your favorite!"

The elder nodded, coughed and began: "I'm going to tell you a story about Briarkit."

"Again?" another elder groaned.

The she-cat turned her head to him and narrowed her single amber eye. The tom snorted.

After letting out a low hiss, the pale gray cat turned back to the kits and continued her story. "Briarkit was a kit not unlike yourselves: she played with mossballs under the sun, collected bedding for elders' nests and loved to listen to our stories."

"We don't do any of that," whispered the tabby tom, eliciting hushed snorts from his sisters.

"One night, she sneaked out of the nursery. That night, a hungry owl was hunting. He swooped down from the sky, grabbed her little body with his talons and gobbled her up. Owls don't chew. Who knows how long she sat in his belly?

"But StarClan granted her wisdom and mercy and sent her to live again. But she had been eaten by an owl; she was afraid to live again."

"What's StarClan?"

While the pale gray elder she-cat did not hear the tabby kit's question, the other elders did.

"They don't know what _StarClan_ is?" another she-cat yowled.

"How could your mother never teach you about StarClan?" a tom who had been pretending to sleep only moments before hissed.

"Why should she have?" growled a large tom.

The pale gray she-cat turned from the kits, to face the other elders and their argument.

The littermates huddled together, shrinking closer to each other as the voices around them rose higher. They saw ThunderClan's elders raise their graying fur and bare their yellowing teeth.

"StarClan is their past, their future, the only thing we have in these dark times."

"StarClan's left us," he growled.

"Tell me what the medicine cat dreams of then, tell me," the pale gray she-cat hissed.

The elders had gotten to their paws, unsheathed their brittle claws and began to move closer together, dropping into battle crouches.

"Let's go," the tabby tom whispered to his sisters.

The kits slipped out of the elders' den, each hiss and growl spurring them on. The noise from their little paws went unnoticed by the fighting cats. They cared only for arguing about things the kits did not even understand.

"We should keep close to the elders' den in case Frostfur comes. Don't want to spend our lives in the nursery like Thornkit," Brightkit mewed even as she put more distance between herself and the fallen tree.

They settled only a few fox-lengths from it and sat on the hard, cracked earth.

The tabby tom kit flattened his ears as he heard the first shriek of pain from the fight that he had caused.

"Maybe I could tell you all a story, since we didn't get to hear ours," he mewled, cringing as he heard a raspy battle cry.

Just like the kits, the warriors in the camp could hear the roars and screeches coming from the elders' den. The tabby tom saw their ears perked and their eyes fixed on the fallen tree, but no one moved.

His sisters too were staring at the elders' den, peering through the gaps in the tangled twigs.

Brightkit nodded after a moment.

"Uh, I'm going to tell you a story about Briarkit," he started.

"Again?" Cinderkit mewed, turning her head to him and pretending to yawn.

"Yes, again. But she didn't get eaten by an owl this time. She went to sleep that night, safe in her nest. But when she went to sleep, she went to . . . uh, uh, DreamClan."

* * *

A lifetime away, was a forest of needled trees frosted with snow. The earth, like a sun-touched cloud, was made from peach fluff and radiated warmth. Behind tendrils of golden fog, there was a blazing orange sun suspended in the soft pink sky.

After falling asleep in ThunderClan's nursery, two kits found themselves in the middle of this surreal forest. The gray she-kit was the first to open her eyes. She scrambled to her feet when she saw the fluffy earth she was laying on. Her patched ginger and white sister let out a gasp as she awoke.

"Cinderkit," the patched kit mewed, getting to her paws. "Where are we?"

"Don't you remember Brackenkit's story yesterday?"

Silence fell as the sisters took in the wonders of the forest. Shiny, brightly colored orbs hung on the ends of the pines' largest branches. Not rooted to the earth by stems, vibrantly colored blossoms floated through the air. White streams of milk cut the ground in the distance, the rich flavor reaching the kits' noses even from so far away.

The sisters, engrossed in searching the scene for the next wonder, jumped and spun around when a _crack_ sounded from behind. Where no one had been just moments before, a silver-gray she-cat sat, grooming her front paw.

"Oh, that's good," she purred.

"Do you get your nips out of scaring people?" the gray kit snarled.

"I'm sure you have lots of friends," growled Brightkit.

The she-cat remained silent, got to her paws and began to walk away.

"Er . . . I'm sorry?" Brightkit called after her. Seeing the she-cat turn her head to face them, she added "I'm Brightkit and this is my sister Cinderkit."

"Kits? Not for long, eh? Are you here for Christmas?"

"Our apprentice ceremony is _moons_ away. And what's Christmas?" Cinderkit mewled.

"You don't know what Christmas is?" the she-cat asked, turning fully around and approaching the sisters.

"No?" Brightkit mewed.

"You're here for it, of course. You probably should."

"We don't know why we're here," Cinderkit meowed as she batted at the orange fluff ground.

"What else?"

"The streams of milk?" Brightkit guessed.

The silver she-cat let out a _mrrow_ of laughter. "Those streams are nothing compared to Christmas. Christmas is when you get your name and your Gift and become a DreamClan warrior."

"We're_ seasons _away from becoming warriors," Cinderkit lamented.

"Just four days."

"I don't think we'll become _DreamClan_ warriors," the fluffy she-kit meowed.

"Why not? You're here."

"We're not from DreamClan."

"Well I _knew _that. DreamClan kits don't have names like _those_.

"Anyway, since you're not from DreamClan, you should probably meet our leader. I can show you to our camp."

"We're not supposed to go into other Clan's camps . . . or territory, for that matter," Brightkit mewed, narrowing her eyes at the older cat. "We don't even know your name."

"I'm Flicker Jump, warrior of DreamClan."

"That's a terrible name," Cinderkit mewed, an undisguised purr rumbling in her throat as she spoke. Brightkit turned her head to her sister, her eyes narrowed and upper lip raised.

"It's a fine name," Flicker Jump squealed, stamping a gray paw against the orange ground. It sunk into the fluffy earth.

"Can you jump really far or something?" Brightkit mewed.

"I can jump anywhere I want."

"That must be really useful for hunting."

"We don't hunt," she scoffed, wrinkling her black nose. "That's barbaric."

Cinderkit had had enough. "If you can jump so well, why don't you prove it?" she demanded.

"Alright."

With a _crack_, Flicker Jump disappeared from view, her body flickering out of sight like a dying flame. Only heartbeats later, another _crack_ struck from behind Cinderkit. The dark gray she-kit spun around and saw a young warrior with a silvery gray pelt sitting behind her, her tail wrapped around her thin legs.

* * *

Faint moonlight drifted from the sky above ThunderClan's forest and streamed through the gaps in bracken walls of the nursery, bathing the sleeping queens and kits in a silvery glow.

They were not sleeping long, as a squeal sliced the air: "Mouse-dung!" The sound came from the largest tom kit.

"Thornkit," a she-cat hidden by the shadows hissed. "Aren't you already in enough trouble?"

"I'm sorry," the kit spat, getting to his feet and fluffing his fur. "I didn't expect my eye to be gouged out while I was sleeping."

"I'm'orry about'im," another she-cat mewed, slurring her speech. "Thornkit, would'ya _lie down_?"

"Not near Cinderkit. She kicked my face while she was sleeping."

"Did not," the smallest kit mewed.

"Tell me why I'm bleeding then, would you?" he hissed.

"Oh for StarClan's sake," the first queen groaned, rolling over to face the bracken.

"I've had enough of StarClan."

"Blasphemy."

"Thornkit, don't say such things," Frostfur meowed through a yawn. Before he could protest, she added "Cinderkit, did you have a bad dream?"

"No," Cinderkit mewed. "It was wonderful. I went to this Clan called DreamClan. And we were going to the camp. Brightkit and me."

"That's funny," Brightkit whispered. "I had the same dream. Do you remember—"

"Fl-Flicker Jump," Cinderkit interrupted, her voice shaking.

"It was real?"

"It was not," another tom kit meowed. "It's a story."

"Hush now and go to sleep," Frostfur mewed.

Like his littermates, Thornkit settled down on the loose dirt floor. He crawled far away from Cinderkit, laying but a tail's breadth away from the sharp bracken.

Just as he closed his eyes, he heard Brightkit squeak softly "We weren't lying, you know."

Her brother answered her with a snort.

"We weren't!" Cinderkit chimed in. "There was everything you said and more. Pink skies, golden fog, a fluffy ground."

"The sky was the best," Brightkit mewed. "It was the color of Frostfur's nose."

"Yeah and the ground was fluffier and more ginger than even Brightkit," Cinderkit added. Her loud _mrrow _of laughter caused the first she-cat to sigh.

"Don't make up stories, you two," Frostfur mewed.

"Why not?" Thornkit demanded. "The medicine cat gets to."

"Thornkit, please! I will not have this. There are warriors in this Clan that would think you a traitor for even thinking of questioning the guidance that StarClan gives to Spottedleaf."

He remained silent. Rather than speaking, he scooted into the sharp thorns, letting them dig into his skin, as long as he could get further from his mother.

"I know it is my fault," Frostfur continued, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I was too harsh on you. You were wrong to sneak out at night and wrong to hide from Bluestar and Spottedleaf, but I do not truly believe that you meant to overhear what you did. I am sorry, Thornkit."

Thornkit did not answer. Her words hurt more than the thorns digging deeper into his flesh. He _had_ meant to listen to the secret conversations between his Clan's medicine cat and leader. He had greedily devoured every word. That his mother thought him above this meant that he had done something truly terrible.

"It's okay, Frostfur," he mewed, his voice coming out high-pitched.

Frostfur spoke again and this time in a low, rumbling purr. "How about you two tell us more about DreamClan?"

Ignoring the first queen's groan and her brother's sigh, Brightkit started: "Flowers float through the sky."

"The trees are even better," Cinderkit squeaked. "They have these shiny bulbs on some of their branches. And they're all coated in _snow_. I've seen them shake it off too and when it's all off of them, they sound like they're sighing."

"That sounds lovely," Frostfur mumbled, her voice thick and tired. "Tell us more."

"The ground," Brightkit mewed. "You practically jump with each step. . . ."

Thornkit edged closer as his sisters spoke of DreamClan.

He imagined going to such a place, running over the ground softer than kit-fluff and drinking from a stream of the richest milk. He imagined walking into DreamClan's camp for the first time. They'd be amazed that there were other Clans and would listen to his tales of ThunderClan all night.

* * *

The night sky was hidden by the stone ceiling of the medicine cat's den and the figures of two she-cats guarding the entrance. They protected the still-warm body of a wounded warrior and four cowing kits. Darkness saturated the hollowed rock.

Despite the panicked whispers and yowls that filled ThunderClan's camp, the eyelids of the exhausted kits were drooping.

Even though Brightkit had crawled in the deepest corner and covered her ears with her paws, the screams still reached them. Fragments of speech broke her foggy half-sleep, dragging her into the world of the awake and afraid each time.

"They just keep falling."

"What do we do?"

"StarClan! They're leaving us."

"Star-fall."

"Bluestar, what do we do?"

"Star-fall, star-fall."

Soon, the blackness of the medicine cat's den and the blackness of sleep were replaced with the fluffy peach earth of DreamClan's forest. Brightkit could hear the mewls of Thornkit, Cinderkit and Flicker Jump around her.

"You're late," Thornkit mewed, pawing at her side.

"I'm sorry," she mewled as she got to her paws and shook her fur. "It was hard to sleep with all the screaming."

"What's happening in ThunderClan?" Flicker Jump asked, cocking her head to one side.

"The stars are falling or something," Cinderkit mewed before Brightkit could answer. "Are we going to see DreamClan soon or not? We spent all night traveling and Frostfur kept us cooped up in the medicine cat den all day because we were 'lethargic.'"

"Why were you lethargic?"

"Because there's nothing to do in ThunderClan but kick dirt around. Now can we go?" Thornkit meowed.

"We're only a small walk away."

Flicker Jump set off, the three kits trailing after her.

As they had journeyed deeper into the forest last night, it had changed. Here, the trees grew closer together, the swirling fog was heavier and in and out of the tree's branches and the sky took on a pale mint tinge.

After several fox-lengths of walking, the kits followed Flicker Jump through a sea tall, navy blue grass. The wind blew the blades of grass into Brightkit's face, cutting at her eyes and nose. She shut her eyes and stumbled blindly onward.

She felt like she had traveled dozens of fox-lengths when she finally broke through the wall of grass.

She opened her eyes and saw before her a camp more than double the size of ThunderClan's. The earth, a ruddy soil, was webbed with trails of amber stone. Dens of vibrant feathers and clay were built along the paths. Scarlet flowers grew at the roots of the tall pines that dotted the camp. Bordering the camp on the farthest side was the largest stream of milk she had seen yet.

Cats filled the camp. They walked along the stone paths, smelled the scarlet flowers, drank from the milk river or laid under the sun. She had never seen so many cats in her life.

Brightkit walked into the camp, feeling the cool earth on her soft pawpads. The area before her was nearly empty, save a young tom attempting to knock a shiny orb off a tree.

"What's he doing that for?" Brightkit asked.

"Who? The tom by the tree? He's just trying to get his dinner," Flicker Jump meowed.

"From the tree?" she mewed, drawing near him.

"Where else?"

The group of kits followed her, all staring at the cat who was hunting the bulbs on a tree.

His paw hit the orb which fell to the ground and shattered. The metallic scraps dissolved in an instant into the ruddy earth and revealed a small pile of meat that smelled like fish.

"Eating before it's ready to fall," Flicker Jump meowed. "Some like it, but I'd rather have my meat mature."

"I want to try," Cinderkit declared.

But Brightkit was already a fox-length from base of the tree, staring at the low-hanging branches, trying to find a bulb that she could reach.

As she searched the branches above, she hardly noticed the faint _crack_ in the distance. The next _crack_, however, she was unable to ignore.

The kit saw a white blur in the air and suddenly a tom cat was less than a tail-length from her nose. She scrambled backward.

Fur pricked, claws unsheathed and teeth bared, she snarled "Who are you to drop down on cats like that?"

"I'm Star Fall, leader of DreamClan, of course. Who else?"

* * *

A growl echoed off the stone walls of the medicine cat's den and roused a sleeping tom kit. He rose to his paws and squinted through the shadows. It had been darker when he had fallen asleep, but the two she-cats blocking the entrance had left and faint moonlight lit the hollowed rock.

The weak light touched the white fur of his mother as she entered the den. She brushed past the blue-gray outline of another cat, walked to the back of the small cave and picked up the kit next to him by the scruff of her neck. The kit squeaked as Frostfur hoisted her into the air.

A few moments after she left, the cat she had brushed against growled, speaking to another dark shape: "If you attack her, I'll run you out of this Clan myself."

Thinking that the growling she-cat had been speaking about his mother, the kit pricked his fur and crept closer to the dark shapes.

"And that goes for you too."

"Yes, Bluestar," came the unfamiliar voice of another she-cat.

He turned his head and saw two cats entering the den. Frostfur was behind the other she-cat.

His mother hardly have to step foot in the hollowed rock to pick up the next kit who had been sleeping near the entrance. As she carried her kit from the den, the kit's squeal of "Frostfur, I can walk!" floated through the nearly silent camp.

A moment passed before the growling cat asked the warriors "What in StarClan's name were you fighting about?"

"Just that," a tom's voice came.

"StarClan?"

"If they're leaving us."

"Of course they are," the high-pitched voice of the medicine cat came.

The she-cat who had came in before Frostfur let out a low hiss.

"Stop that!" yowled the blue-gray cat.

Frostfur entered again. When she picked up the third kit and carried him away, he did not struggle or protest.

After even more silence, the medicine cat mewed "Would you two please wash your wounds in the pool in the back? Brackenkit, go wait at the mouth of my den for your mother."

The low growls from the approaching warriors touched the kit's ears and his pace quickened to a sprint as he left the den.

He waited in the mouth of the hollowed rock for only a heartbeat before Frostfur's teeth clutched the scruff of his neck. He curled into a ball as she lifted him into the air. She carried him across the camp and into the bracken-walled nursery.

His littermates were huddled together in a corner of the den, their snores and rhythmic breathing the only noises in the nearly empty nursery. Frostfur set him down next to them. The kit scooted closer to their warmth.

She laid down next, wrapping her body around her sleeping kits.

He watched her as his littermates slept. Her eyes closed only to blink and her perked ears were stiffer than stones. Frostfur would not be sleeping that night.

Soon, he heard soft footfalls approach the nursery. His mother's head turned to the entrance as a voice, that of the growling she-cat, drifted in.

"Keep watch on Frostfur and her kits tonight, Tigerclaw."

"Where are the other queens?" a tom's deep voice sounded.

"Where are so many of our warriors?" the she-cat hissed. "My warriors. They have left us or they have tasted the blood of their own Clanmates."

"Stars fell from the sky itself. What do you expect?"

She did not answer his question.

"Our ancestors are leaving us," she mewed finally.

"As is the warrior code," the tom meowed, the rumble of a purr tainting his voice. "Does it truly matter if Silverpelt is blackened? We can leave these lands. We do not need StarClan."

"Without StarClan, warriors are kits, medicine cats are superstitious fools, leaders do not have the power to lead.

"This darkness is a disease that can only spread."

"Cheerful," came the warrior's growl.

"Good night, Tigerclaw."

The kit heard pawsteps once more, but this time, they faded away, out of earshot.

He looked at his mother again. Her eyes were still open and her ears perked.

* * *

A tiny black nose pushed aside woven strands of emerald feathers as it emerged through the wall of a DreamClan den. The face and body of a kit, Cinderkit, emerged after the nose.

She saw the sunken floor, dug into the cool ruddy earth and lined with sheer blue-tinted stones; the loose, messy nest of blue reeds that took up the center of the den and the piles of golden stones and emptied shells that blocked the way to the nest. She could feel the warmth the stones emanated as she entered the den and the wind-like whispers of the shells could be heard from even from outside.

Cinderkit wondered how the cat sleeping in the nest made her way across the piles of stones and shells each night. Flicker Jump's lithe silvery gray body was nestled in the bed of blue reeds.

The kit watched the older she-cat for a moment, noticing that she hardly moved when she slept. Cinderkit would just have to move first. She ran into the DreamClan warrior's shoulder, scattering the piles and waking Flicker Jump from her slumber.

"Flicker Jump! I missed you!" the kit exclaimed.

"Grah-ah. Mrrow-frrow-rrrrrow," grumbled Flicker Jump as her eyes opened.

The she-cat forced herself to her paws and forced her drooping eyelids to stay open. She looked at Cinderkit and mewed through a yawn "What are you doing here at night? Isn't it daytime in ThunderClan?"

"I took a nap. There's nothing better to do. Frostfur won't let us but a fox-length away from the nursery after last night."

"ThunderClan sounds so terribly boring," Flicker Jump mewed before starting to rake her collection of shells and stones back into piles with a paw.

"DreamClan is so much better. Back in the forest, fights aren't always for play. Clans battle over food and territory. It's like there isn't enough, but I've never gone hungry and the forest seems plenty big to me. Warriors are always talking about how the prey is leaving. And then, they're all talking of StarClan, whatever that is, and how it's leaving the forest too. Like it's the end of the forest itself, but nothing has changed.

"I think everyone just gets bored."

"ThunderClan doesn't sound so boring anymore," Flicker Jump mewed. "It sounds terrible."

"It is."

"But I like it better."

"Why?" Cinderkit mewed as she started helping the older she-cat kick shells and stones into piles.

"My best friend lives there."

Cinderkit let out a squeak. "We've only known each other for two days, Flicker Jump. . . . But I think you're my best friend too."

"Who says I was talking about you?" the warrior purred.

"Of course you were. Who else would you be talking about? Brackenkit?"

"Why does he never come to DreamClan like the rest of your littermates, anyway?" Flicker Jump meowed. She sat as Cinderkit pushed the last warm stone into a pile.

"He doesn't want to come here. He says he doesn't 'believe' in DreamClan and that he created DreamClan. All he did was tell us a story. He couldn't have made this place up."

"He sounds full of himself," Flicker Jump meowed.

Cinderkit said nothing.

After several moments, she finally mewed "Do you remember when Brightkit and Star Fall went off last night? Are they in love?"

"They only went off for an afternoon. That doesn't mean that they're in love." Flicker Jump settled back down in her nest. "Well, it probably does."

She yawned and rested her head on the twisted reeds.

Cinderkit laid next to her friend on the outer edge of the nest, wedging her body between the piles of shells and stones and the warrior.

"That's disgusting, " she mewed.

"I agree," Flicker Jump meowed through another yawn.

The silver-gray she-cat closed her eyes.

"Are you going to stay in DreamClan forever?" the warrior said, her mew hardly a whisper.

Cinderkit rolled to face the her, resting her back on Flicker Jump's shells and stones.

"Would you tell me how?"

After several heartbeats, Flicker Jump answered with a snore.

Cinderkit sighed, rolling back on her stomach, for the shells were digging into her skin and the stones were burning her.

* * *

DreamClan was full of cats, but it was a lonely place for a kit with no friends, as Thornkit soon came to know.

When he woke, he was disappointed to find himself in DreamClan's camp again. Still too shy to approach anyone, he wandered about the land, batting at flowers that drifted in the pale green sky and leaping out of the way of anyone who crossed his path.

As he made his seventh lap around the camp, he saw a group of cats sitting in a tight circle for the seventh time. Boredom drove him closer to them. He didn't plan to speak to the cats, just see whatever it was that kept their attention.

As he approached, he saw, in the center of the circle, for the first time in DreamClan, an elder. The elder's fur was a faded flame with silver veins marking his pelt.

The kit froze in his place as the tom turned his head, fixed his green stare on Thornkit and meowed "Hello, friend. I am Old One. Who are you?"

The kit looked around and saw dozens of cats staring at him. He sprinted the last few fox-lengths before sitting with the cats and mewing in what he hoped was a respectful tone "Thornkit of ThunderClan."

"So you have not been given your Gift yet," Old One rasped. "What do you wish it to be?"

"Something good," Thornkit squeaked. "Not something like Star Fall has."

A few high-pitched _mrrow_s rang through the crowd, but Old One did not laugh. Instead, he croaked "But Star Fall's Gift is perfect for Star Fall. Falling on and in front of cats to spook them is catnip to our grand leader. Not every cat could be as lucky as Star Fall, to get a Gift that is perfect for him."

"Er . . . okay."

"I'm still not sure that my Gift is perfect for me, even though I've had so much time to think about it. You see, my Gift is the Gift of forever," Old One meowed. Cats around him nodded.

"That's a great Gift," Thornkit mewed. "I would love to live forever."

"Then for your sake, Thornkit, I hope that you are given it. All cats in DreamClan _are_ forever, but only I have the Gift to_ live_ forever—to age."

"I don't understand," Thornkit mewed. He stared at the ancient tom for a few moments, before turning and walking away.

Why would Old One want him to grow old rather than live forever as a young warrior?

He took one last look behind him, expecting the elder to be eating dirt or showing some other sign of lunacy.

Old One sat, his tail wrapped around his legs, staring at Thornkit. He opened his toothless mouth and let out a hoarse mew: "You can leave any time you want to, Thornkit of ThunderClan. As I understand it, you're only dreaming. Just open your eyes."

The golden brown kit began to snarl a retort, but stopped before he had even let out a sound. The old cat was right.

For once, someone besides Thornkit was right. And Thornkit decided that was a cat worth listening to.

The kit walked back to the circle of cats and took his place between two DreamClan warriors.

"Welcome to today's story, Thornkit of ThunderClan. It's a story about caring and trust. I think you'll like it. If I'm correct, it takes place in a Clan not unlike your own."

He paused for a few moments before croaking "Where was I? . . . Oh, yes. Young Briarkit was given the honor of carrying the fallen sparrow, Bluewing, to Gathering. Her Clan wished to share Bluewing's gift with all the forest. It's not often that a great storyteller plummets into your camp, but when it happens, you cannot selfishly keep their stories to yourself."

The ginger tom turned to Thornkit yet again and asked "Does that sound like ThunderClan?"

"Er." Thornkit dug his claws into the earth. "Well, in ThunderClan, we don't listen to sparrows' stories or carry them around. Uh. How do I say this? We eat them."

* * *

Two cats stood on the bank of the rich milk river that bordered DreamClan's camp, heads bowed and tongues lapping the liquid. The larger was a fluffy white tom and the smaller was an equally fluffy ginger and white patched she-kit.

Muzzle dripping milk, the tom lifted his face from the river and told the she-kit "I want to show you something special."

"What's that?" Brightkit mewed.

"You'll find out soon enough."

The she-kit bent her head down to take another drink. Her tongue had just touched the liquid when Star Fall slammed his shoulder into her, pushing her in the milk. The river of white churned as she thrashed her limbs desperately, trying to stay afloat.

There was a joyful yowl and a splash as DreamClan's leader dived in after her. Brightkit's head surfaced only rarely as the rapidly increasing current tugged her downriver. She hurtled faster and faster, until her body traveled at a breakneck speed.

Too busy fighting the river and choking on the milk she had been drinking just moments before, she didn't notice that the current would wash her onto a snow-covered shore until she felt the cold soak through her fur.

She scrambled to her paws. Not only did the snow force her shiver, but it sent a purr to her throat. For even as its chill touched her skin, it tickled her.

Star Fall called from behind:"Did you like that?"

"Of course not." Her growl was softened by a purr as snow touched her soft pawpads.

She turned and saw Star Fall getting to his feet. She was surprised when she saw him. His fluffy fur was slicked down, coated in milk. Beneath his long, puffy coat, he had a strong, muscular frame. He met Brightkit's stare and she quickly turned her head.

She looked down at her own drenched legs. Was he inspecting her in the same way?

After a moment, he took the lead, mewing "Follow me." His voice came out high-pitched as he walked across the snow.

Star Fall led her only a few fox-lengths away, sat and stared at the land before him.

The trees here had no colorful orbs hanging from their branches. They grew close together, blocking the horizon. Floating blossoms and swirling fog did not obstruct the pale blue sky.

The pines before Brightkit were the largest trees she had ever seen, in ThunderClan and in DreamClan. Their emerald needles were covered by a thick coating of white snow. The tallest stood twice the size of the others, like a full-grown warrior hovering over a litter of day-old kits.

Its trunk was gnarled and twisted, limbs had snapped in half and were suspended in the tangle of branches below and it had bald patches. The worn tree reminded Brightkit of the elders who spent their time tucked away in their den, unseen and unwanted by the rest of the Clan.

"That's the Christmas Tree," Star Fall meowed. He did not speak in the way ThunderClan spoke of its elders, he spoke in a breathless, reverent tone.

"It's . . . big," Brightkit mewed.

"All DreamClan cats who have not yet received a Gift and a name will gather under it tomorrow."

"The ceremony is tomorrow?" Brightkit mewed. She shivered as the wind blew her soaked pelt.

"It's the buzz of the camp, kit."

"Kit?"

"You're not yet a warrior," Star Fall mewed, turning his head away from her. "Would you like to be?" he added in a whisper even quieter than when he spoke of the Christmas Tree.

"I'm not sure. It doesn't mean much to be a DreamClan warrior, does it?"

"Not really."

For several moments, they did not speak.

Star Fall got to his paws and took a few steps toward the Christmas Tree. He stopped in his tracks, turned his head to her and called out: "I hope you'll be under the tree tomorrow."

"When is it?" Brighkit mewed.

"All day. I'll hold off the ceremony until sundown if I have to."

* * *

Dawn light streamed the gaps in the thick bracken walls of ThunderClan's nursery, illuminating a floor of loose dirt and the four kits who were to spend the day inside.

"I didn't know cats could have green pelts," a tiny gray kit squeaked. "His coat even had little flecks of silver."

Cinderkit was pacing, walking the length of the nursery over and over.

"Quit making up stories," Brackenkit snarled. "DreamClan doesn't exist and all of you know it." He laid in the mouth of the den, staring out at the empty camp.

"Why don't you believe in DreamClan?" Cinderkit mewled. As she passed, she kicked dirt towards him, showering his golden brown flanks in dusty soil.

"Because I made it up," he growled. "It doesn't exist. I've told you this a hundred times."

A fluffy ginger and white she-cat raised her head from her resting place in the deepest corner of the den. "Why is it so wrong to you that your story is real?" she mewed.

Another kit, a large golden brown tom, spat out the thorn he had been attempting to sharpen his teeth with. Blood dripped from his mouth as he spoke. "It's like you don't want there to be a better place out there."

"It's not real and it's not a better place than ThunderClan. It's. A. Story. That. I. Made. Up," Brackenkit mewed each word slowly, as if to give his littermate ample time to understand each one's meaning.

"You might have made it up, but that doesn't mean it isn't real," the gray kit hissed. "It's so much more than you could ever have imagined it to be."

A yowl from outside of the nursery cut their argument short.

Cinderkit, Thornkit and Brightkit galloped to entrance of the den, to peer out into the camp, where the yowl came from. Only two cats stood in the camp: a blue-gray she-cat and a large, battle-scarred tom who was walking away from her. He was headed for the forest.

"You are exiled!" the blue-gray cat screeched. "Leave ThunderClan at once. You are not welcome here. ThunderClan's warriors will treat you as any other rogue should they have the _pleasure_ to find you on our territory."

The tom turned and faced the she-cat. He fluff his fur before roaring "I am leaving of my own will. I will not starve to death because of what you claim our ancestors wish.

"Anyone with a mind—even that of a mouse—can see that you are an old fool, Bluestar. You are not fit to lead a patrol, let alone a Clan."

The warrior turned his back on her and padded into the forest. The kits shrank back into the nursery as her head turned to its entrance.

They crawled into the deepest corner and laid together in the loose, dry dirt.

After several moments, Thornkit broke the silence. "I didn't know you could just up and _leave_."

"I can't believe that, Thornkit. Not a day goes by without someone threatening you with exile," Cinderkit purred.

"I didn't think they were _serious_. I didn't think that was an actual _thing_."

The kits fell silent for another moment.

Cinderkit spoke first this time. "But if he can just leave ThunderClan to be a rogue, why can't we leave ThunderClan to join DreamClan?"

The patched she-kit spoke next. "Oh, I would love to, but how? You know, Star Fall told me that Christmas is tonight."

"I want to go, but I don't want to get a Gift tonight," Thornkit mewled. "Old One told me that I should rethink what a good Gift really is."

"Who's Old One?" Brightkit mewed.

The three kits turned their head as they heard they brother's snarl. He had been listening as the spoke, not speaking until now. "You three are just planning on leaving? You'll just leave Frostfur and me here, then?"

For another moment, the nursery was silent.

Cinderkit's mew broke the silence a second time: "Why do you think we haven't left yet?"

* * *

In ThunderClan's nursery, a mother's scream woke her kits.

"Wake up!"

When Brackenkit woke, he knew nothing of the flames that devoured the forest. He knew nothing of trees snapping in half, their trunks eaten by the hungry blaze. He knew nothing of the agonized screams that came from the cats who could not escape the fire. That would change.

His waking breath carried the scent of burning wood and smoke to his nose. He coughed and sputtered as he pulled himself to his paws.

He turned to find his littermates cowering at their mother's white feet.

"Brackenkit, take the lead," she ordered, her even voice almost lost in the roar of the flames. "I'll be behind. No one will get lost."

He found the camp empty, other than the fire and burning bodies trapped beneath fallen trees. When he looked to the sky, he found it empty as well. The stars had really left and they had took the moon with them.

He crawled beneath burning branches and jumped over smoldering limbs. When he looked back, he saw the soot-covered faces of his littermates and mother through the smoke. He could hardly breathe and coughs racked his body.

His mother had trusted him to lead, but he did know where he was leading them.

"Fr-Frosfur . . . where . . . do I . . . go?" he asked through wheezes. He could not see the way out of the camp through the walls of tall flames and fallen trees that surrounded them.

"Follow," she grunted. She took the lead, stepping over her kits.

Even as the kit stepped around the charred body of an elder or heard distant wails and screeches slowly die, they felt safe. Their mother knew where she was going. Frostfur would get them out of this.

Safety was a feeling that ended with a_ crack_ of a tree snapping in two.

Brackenkit turned his face to the noise, to the flaming trunk of an oak just a fox-length ahead. He watched as the top swung down and crashed into the forest floor.

"Frostfur?" he mewed. His mother had been in front of him only a moment ago. He had saw her jump out of the way, but he could not see her over the thick oak.

"I'm . . . here," came a groan.

"Can you help us over the tree?" he heard Cinderkit mew behind him.

"No. . . . I wasn't fast enough," his mother whimpered.

"What?" Brightkit shrieked. She pushed past Brackenkit and dug her claws into the tree bark as she began to climb over it.

"Are you trying to climb over?" Frostfur's groaning voice came again.

"No, Frostfur, " Brightkit mewed as she scrambled to the top.

"Get down now, Brightkit," Frostfur mewled. "I am your mother . . . you will listen to me."

Brightkit bowed her head to look down at the other side of the tree and screeched.

"Get down," Frostfur growled.

The patched she-kit scrambled back down to her littermates. She sat, bowed her head and did not look up from the earth.

"Kits . . . walk around this tree, head for the end that snapped off. Stay clear of the flames. Ahead . . . the forest is untouched as far as I can see. Keep going. . . . You'll get to the river."

Brackenkit could hear his mother's faint purr above the crackles and roars of the blaze that was pressing closer to them.

"It is funny," she rasped, her voice choked by the smoke and weakened by the weight that was crushing her. "I was away tonight because I was meeting your father. . . . He left the Clan this afternoon. Wasn't supposed to be on our territory. . . . I came back to sneak you out of camp. He should be waiting for us on the banks of the river."

Another purr rumbled in her throat. "Thornkit, tell him I said 'hello.'"

He heard his brother let out a soft snort. "You never made a joke like that before, Frostfur."

"Where do you think . . . you got your twisted humor?" Frostfur whimpered, letting out afaint _mrrow _of laughter.

"Be very careful around the flames . . . Brightkit," she continued. "Your fur is so thick. Did I ever tell you . . . I had fluff like you when I was a kit? . . . You'll grow out of it, I promise."

"Thanks, Frostfur," Brightkit whispered. "I can't believe you were fluffy, you have the loveliest fur."

"And, Cinderkit, I saw you looking at Spottedleaf's stores . . . when I kept you in her den. I asked her about a few. . . . The only one I remember, funnily enough, is comfrey root. . . . It can soothe burns."

"Don't worry, we won't get any burns," Cinderkit mewled.

"Thank you." Frostfur heaved a sigh before speaking to the fourth kit. "Brackenkit . . . I want to hear of a Brackenstar one day. . . . You keep your littermates out of trouble . . . I know you would keep a Clan out of trouble too."

"Yes, Frostfur," he mewed, bowing his head.

"'Fire is the only way out,' right?" she mewled, her voice barely a whisper. "There is no way that ThunderClan . . . will stay in this forest after such a fire. My kits will be off to better lands."

Suddenly, her voice grew loud and growling. "Now leave. I've kept you long enough."

"Goodbye, Frostfur," Brackenkit mewed. He did not move.

"Maybe I will see you kits in DreamClan tomorrow."

He could walk past the fallen tree. He could make his way through the untouched forest beyond. He could escape the flames. He meet his father at the banks of the river.

Instead, he laid down, scooting close to the tree that had crushed his mother and closed his eyes. He imagined himself in the nursery, his mother and littermates tucked into their corner. Frostfur would surround them all, keeping them all warm through the could leaf-bare night.

"Frostfur?" he heard Thornkit mewl. "Frostfur?"

No answer came.

Soon, Brackenkit felt warm flanks around him. He felt the kit-fluff of his littermates keeping him warm like his mother once did.

The bodies around him grew warmer and warmer and hotter and hotter.

***break***

"Hurry up!" The tom heard a meow come from above. "You're going to miss the ceremony!"

Brackenkit opened his eyes. He saw silvery paws planted on ruddy soil. He turned his head up and saw Cinderkit. She was not the small, fluffy Cinderkit he knew, but a sleek, lithe warrior.

"Cinderkit?" he mewed.

"No, I'm Flicker Jump," the cat meowed. "Cinderkit's right there."

Brackenkit followed her gaze and saw his gray sister beside him, stretching her limbs. Behind her, Thornkit stood, shaking the dirt from his fur and Brightkit sat, grooming her fluffy flanks.

"I found the way they looked so alike strange at first too," a she-cat's voice came from behind Brackenkit. He scrambled to his paws and turned around.

The kit would, in time, see DreamClan. He would see the amber stone paths embedded into the red-brown soil. He would see the tall pines dusted with snow and the colorful metallic bulbs that hung from their branches. He would see the dens made of feathers and clay along the paths. He would see the milk river that bordered the camp in the distance.

He would even see things that his littermates had not noticed. Things that only the storyteller would know to look for. He would see the white mice that scurried about the camp, clearing out dirty bedding from dens and replacing it with clean reeds, moss and down feathers. He would see that the golden fog was emitted from the rumps of tiny naked Twolegs that floated in the sky. He would see the feline faces in the centers of the scarlet flowers that bloomed beneath pines.

He would go on to see the Christmas Tree on Christmas Day and watch every kit of DreamClan become a warrior. He would watch them show their Gifts: he would watch warriors soar through the air, he would watch warriors turn flowers into ice, and he would watch warriors race across the snow with the speed of a Twoleg's monster.

He would see warriors, kits and white mice alike gathered around him, eager to listen to one of his famous stories. He would see kits of his own playing with mossballs under the sun, helping the white mice carry reeds for their own bedding and gather in the circles to listen to his stories.

But, for now, the kit could only see his mother.


End file.
